"When we were on a house-party together up in Warwick, she left a borrowed car out in the rain with the top down, and then lied about it—and suddenly I remembered the story about her that had eluded me that night at Daisy’s. At her first big golf tournament there was a row that nearly reached the newspapers—a suggestion that she had moved her ball from a bad lie in the semi-final round. The thing approached the proportions of a scandal—then died away. A caddy retracted his statement, and the only other witness admitted that he might have been mistaken. The incident and the name had remained together in my mind."
One time when my music theory professor was a student in college, he had to accompany an extremely rude soprano for a recital. She treated him like dirt during rehearsals. Just before going on to perform, she made some really snide remark to him that ticked him off, so he transposed the piece up a half step. She cracked three times.
Always be nice to your accompanists, folks.
There is a special place in hell for people that are rude to their accompanists